Falling to Pieces
by BigTimeRush-BTR
Summary: He should be happy, at least, that's what everyone keeps telling him. They call him selfish, ungrateful and arrogant. What they don't know is that he's slowly but surely falling apart – caught up in a downward spiral – and he's not even sure he can save himself anymore.
1. Prologue

**Hey, guys. I probably should not be starting yet another story, but I've had this idea for a while now, and recently, I was reading Miss Fenway's fic, How to Save a Life (which is amazing, btw, you guys should check it out if you haven't yet), and it really inspired me to write this.**

 **I'm warning you guys now, this story _will_ be angsty. It will mention and include serious topics, such as drug addiction, self-harm, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, and suicide/suicidal thoughts. So if you think you might be triggered by any of that, don't read any further.  
**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 _"I can't do this anymore... I'm sorry. I love you."_

He feels his heart skip a beat as he sways on his feet, his phone still held tightly in his hand.

He has no time to plan things out.

It's with shaking hands that he runs out of his room, down the stairs, and to where his bike is standing by the side of his house. He wastes no time in dialing an ambulance, all while simultaneously starting to pedal down his driveway and in the direction of James' house.

He reminds himself to breathe and stay calm as he relays the information to the person on the other end of the line, even though every nerve in his body is screaming at him to panic. He's always been good at staying calm under pressure, but this is not one of those times. This time, staying calm is a struggle.

When he gets to James' house, he jumps off his bike and lets it fall to the ground. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he tries the front door, only to find that it's locked. He curses under his breath, before lifting himself up the familiar tree that leads to James' room.

To his relief, James' window isn't locked. He climbs over the windowsill with caution. By the time his feet land on solid ground, his cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink and he's panting, unable to breathe.

He wastes no time in searching the bedroom, only to find it completely void of human life. There are torn papers, pens, posters, and clothes scattered all over the floor. A lamp lays by the window, shattered into pieces. It's clear something has happened in there, he's just not sure what.

He runs, practically stumbling into the bathroom, praying to whatever god is up there that James is there. Yet, at the same time, he is terrified of what he will find on the other side.

Pills. There are pills scattered all over the floor, being the first thing that catches his eye when he steps foot into the small room.

The sight alone has him feeling dizzy, disoriented, like a fish out of water. His legs are shaking, his mind's completely gone blank, while he searches for any sight of his best friend.

It's when his gaze lands on the bathtub that he collapses to his knees.

"No." The word barely manages to make its way past his lips as he reaches with a shaking hand for the body of the boy he's known since he was five. His first friend – his first _best friend_ is lying unconscious, lips slightly parted and tinted blue, body stock still.

 _No no no._

"James." He's crying, tears streaming down the corners of his eyes before he can even stop them. "James... James, please wake up. You can't leave me, James. You can't." He chokes, body convulsing forward as he brings James closer, his head coming to rest against James' chest. "Please don't die. I can't lose you..."

He can hear James' heartbeat. It's slow, but it's there, and that alone brings a wave of relief to wash over him. That relief, though, is not long-lasting. He doesn't know how many pills James took. He doesn't know how much time he has left. He doesn't know what to do, and the realization of that is killing him.

"Please don't die, James. I need you," he chokes out as he tightens his hold around James' body, which feels like dead-weight in his arms.

He suddenly hears the sound of sirens getting closer and he lifts his head, a hand moving to stroke a lock of hair off of James' forehead. "It's gonna be okay. It's all gonna be okay," he whispers, more in an attempt to calm himself down than to James. "Everything will be fine."

But everything's _not_ fine, and he knows it. Everything is so far from fine that he can't even remember a time when things were less fine than they are now.

Everything is a mess, and his world is rapidly falling apart right in front of his very eyes.

He cradles James in his arms until the paramedics arrive – until they have to pry him from his arms to lay him down on a gurney.

"C-can I go?" he asks one of the paramedics as he runs after the gurney, his eyes not leaving James' unmoving body.

"Son, we can't—"

"Please," he begs, feeling the tears well up in his eyes again. "I need to make sure he's okay. I-I don't want him to be alone."

The paramedic sighs, but nods, knowing they have no time to waste.

"Thank you." He climbs into the back of the ambulance in an instant and takes a seat beside James. He watches with a lump in his throat as the paramedics work around him, both of his hands holding tightly onto James' cold one.

"Don't leave me. Please... you need to hang on, okay? You-you need to. You _have_ to."

His head is throbbing, his heart is aching. He can't imagine things possibly getting any worse, except they do.

The machines that have been connected to James suddenly start beeping beside him, drowning out what the paramedics are saying. He's only able to catch one of them saying that they're losing him as they try to bring James back to life.

He closes his eyes, unable to watch any longer. He feels light-headed, sick. Everything around him is spinning.

He only opens his eyes when the paramedic speaks again, this time with hopelessness in his voice rather than desperation.

"He's gone."

* * *

 **So... that happened. You all probably hate me now and I don't blame you, lol. I know this didn't reveal much, but as the story progresses things will hopefully make more sense. Any guesses as to who was the one to find James? If you paid close attention, you'll probably be able to figure it out.**

 **Let me know what you thought, and thank you for reading. :)**

 **~ BigTimeRush-BTR :)**


	2. Chapter 1

**So, I know I need to work on my other stories as well, but I started working on this chapter, and once I started, I couldn't stop. However, college classes start next Tuesday for me, so I'm gonna try my best to update at least one other story between now and then.**

 **I hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

"What happened?"

"My p-parents were fighting again."

James' whole body is shaking, his legs feeling like they will give out from underneath him. He stares at Kendall, who is sitting on his bed with his laptop in front of him. He had been working on an English essay that was due the next day until James had walked in, red-faced and eyes teary.

Kendall stares at him with worry in his eyes and pushes the laptop off his lap, before moving aside so James can take a seat. "C'mere," he says, patting the empty spot beside him. "Talk to me."

James nods shakily, forcing his legs to move the few steps to Kendall's bed. He sits down carefully, immediately feeling an arm wind around his middle. He leans into the touch, seeking the comfort that Kendall provides.

"What happened?" Kendall asks when James stays quiet. He doesn't want to push him, but he knows that James won't talk unless he tries to get it out of him.

"I..." James sighs, his eyes locked on his hands, which he's fiddling with on his lap. "I got a bad grade in Geometry."

"How bad?"

"A 54... They weren't happy."

"Did they yell at you or something?"

"Kinda."

"Kinda?"

James sniffles, tears gathering in his eyes again. "They said I need to do better, or I'm not allowed to be on the team anymore..."

"What?!"

He cringes, which doesn't go unnoticed by Kendall. The hold around him tightens and a hand starts rubbing up and down his arm in a comforting manner.

"Sorry. But are you serious? They can't do that."

"I wish they couldn't, but they can, and knowing my parents, they will."

"But... you're one of the best players on the team," Kendall tells him. "We wouldn't be as successful without you."

"I don't think they care."

"Your dad doesn't even live with you anymore. He shouldn't be making these kinds of decisions."

"Yeah, well... he thinks he's entitled to, regardless of that."

He knows Kendall's right. His father had walked out on his family when he was eight and was now married to another woman. He's hardly a part of his life anymore, and he isn't much of a father figure, if James is being honest. He doesn't help his mom out, he isn't there for him, yet he feels like he has the right to punish him whenever he does something wrong. And his mother, for whatever reason, allows it to happen.

He's sick of it.

"It's not your fault you're not doing well. Geometry's a hard subject."

"You're not even taking Geometry, Kendall." James rolls his eyes, playfully nudging Kendall with his shoulder. "And it is hard, but they don't seem to get that."

"Maybe you could ask Logan for help?" Kendall suggests.

"Maybe..."

"I'm sure he'd be willing to help you."

"Yeah, but..."

"But?" Kendall looks at him quizzically, but James doesn't look back.

"N-nothing."

"Are you sure?"

James nods, slipping off the bed and to his feet. "Yeah. I think I'm actually gonna head back, let you work on whatever you were working on," he says, motioning to the laptop.

"James..."

"I'm fine, really. I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

Kendall looks unconvinced, but nods his head. "Sure. Call me if you need anything, though."

"Thanks."

He waves goodbye at Kendall before slipping out of the room and making his way down the stairs. To his relief, neither Kendall's mom or his little sister, Katie, are anywhere in sight to question him any further.

He wishes he could stay here forever. Kendall's the only one that's able to help when things are going wrong. Sure, he has Carlos and Logan, his two other best friends, but they're not Kendall.

Carlos is the ball of energy of the group; the ray of sunshine. He's the one who can turn some of the darkest days upside down. He's all laughs and smiles, and just what James needs when he wants to stop feeling down.

Logan's the brains of the group. He's the smart one; the logical one. He's the one who is always able to knock some sense into the three of them whenever they're about to do something stupid, which is pretty often.

But Kendall, he's the leader; he's the one the others turn to for support and advice. He listens but also offers his advice when it's needed. He's a shoulder to lean on when things get tough, which in James' case, has been a lot recently.

James doesn't even know how Kendall puts up with him, because he's had a hard time putting up with himself the past few weeks.

Things started getting bad around the time eleventh grade started. At first, things were going alright, but by the third week of school, he was mentally exhausted. Everything started piling up and he was too tired most of the time to get anything done. He would stay up until past one in the morning every night, trying to catch up on his schoolwork, only to wake up at six to catch the bus, but even that wasn't enough.

It's been six weeks since then and the effect of it all is showing. His grades are slipping, his sleep schedule is a disaster, and he is exhausted practically 24/7. He doesn't understand how there are people like Logan, who get good grades without even trying, because he tries _so hard_. And yet, it's not enough.

He's never enough.

"James!"

He hears the thud of footsteps running down the stairs just as he's about to reach for the doorknob and turns around.

"You forgot your phone," Kendall says as he reaches the last step. He hands it out to James as he comes to a stop in front of him.

James takes it with a smile.

"Thanks. I didn't even realize I'd put it down."

"No problem. See you tomorrow?"

James nods. "See you, and thank you... for listening."

Kendall smiles. "Anytime."

James slips out into the cold Minnesota air a second later, shivering. He stuffs his cellphone into his jacket's pocket and wraps his arms around himself. It's past seven in the evening, so the sky's gone dark. The only light provided is that of the street lamps outside and the lights on in people's houses.

 _I shouldn't have gone out this late,_ he thinks, his pace quickening. _I should've stayed home._

His heart is racing, his feet scraping against the concrete below him.

He's practically choking on air by the time he gets home, a cold chill running through his body. He's relieved to find that his father's car is no longer in the driveway, which means one less person he has to act okay around.

"James, is that you?" He has just opened the door when he hears his mom's voice from somewhere in the kitchen.

"Yeah," he says quietly, trying to catch his breath.

His mom appears, her arms folded in front of her chest. She's frowning.

He involuntarily steps back, knowing fully well that she's not happy with him.

"Where were you?" his mom questions him, her tone cutting through the air like a knife. "I went into your room looking for you, and you were gone. No word, no note, nothing."

"I... I was with Kendall."

"You could've at least told me."

"Sorry." He looks down at his feet, unable to look his mom in the eye. "Dad was here and you were upset."

"That's no reason to go out without saying anything."

James sighs, tears blurring his vision. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," his mom warns with a stern look directed at him. "Dinner will be ready soon, so go wash your hands."

James nods, starting towards the downstairs bathroom without another word. It's not until he's inside and the door's been closed that he lets the tears fall. He's been so emotional lately, and he hates it. He wishes he was able to stop being so sensitive all the time. He's sure it would solve about ninety-nine percent of his problems.

It's hard not to be emotional, though, when his parents continuously remind him of how big of a failure he is.

He takes his time to wash his hands, not wanting to have to face his mother quite yet. When he'd left earlier, his mom and dad had been arguing. As always, they were arguing over him – over how poorly he was doing, over how much better he could be doing if he would just try his best. But he _was_ trying his best, yet, they couldn't see that.

It's after taking one last look at his reflection in the mirror that he walks out of the bathroom, head hanging in shame. He cautiously makes his way to the dinner table, where a plate is waiting for him, along with his mother.

She must see the somber look in his eyes, because her expression suddenly turns from upset to worried. "What's wrong?"

He takes a seat, blinking back the tears in his eyes. "Huh?"

"Is something wrong?" his mother asks, her voice softer than it had been just a few minutes before.

He shakes his head as he grabs his fork and stabs it into the broccoli in his plate. "Um, no, nothing's wrong. Why?"

"You seem upset."

 _As if you care,_ he thinks, refusing to meet her eyes. His gaze is locked on the food in front of him, which all of a sudden doesn't seem so appetizing. "Just tired," he says, hoping she'll buy it.

"Why did you go to Kendall's, then?" his mom asks.

"I... needed to ask him a question about some homework," he lies, forcing a forkful of the broccoli into his mouth. It tastes bland.

"What kind of homework?"

He wants to disappear. He doesn't want to be interrogated. He doesn't want to have to lie.

He gulps. "English homework."

"Why didn't you just text him?"

He sighs, sinking into his chair. The fork falls from his hand, clanking against his plate. "Because I didn't want to be here, okay? All you and dad do is fight!"

With that being said, he rises from his chair, his food being forgotten, and runs up to his room. He ignores his mom calling him to come back and closes the bedroom door behind him. It is then that he lets his back slide against its wooden surface, his breathing coming out in uneven gasps for air.

Little does he know, this is just the beginning.

* * *

 **Like that last sentence said, this is just the beginning, which you can probably tell just by looking at the prologue. Things are gonna get worse as the story progresses... a lot worse.**

 **Thank you for reading. I hope you liked this chapter. :)**

 **~ BigTimeRush-BTR :)**


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